and i am so much more
by tinyphrases
Summary: She takes up his thoughts and his dreams and his actions, whether he's with her or with someone else. Based on lyrics from Matt Nathanson's "Run".


I wrote this for Josi, and eh, after the things she dropped in the Google Doc comments, I bravely decided to publish it. Also, does this classify as songfic? I HAVE NO IDEA. But it is completely based on Matt Nathanson's _Run. _A song I (and Josi) recommend wholeheartedly.

Disclaimer: My spring break was spent doing homework and summarizing and trying not to die over Target. Eh, I don't think Marlowe would freak out over his own show.

* * *

_you surround me_

* * *

She's everywhere.

In his life, his house, his bed, in him. Yes, even inside of him. She takes up his thoughts and his dreams and his actions, whether he's with her or with someone else. Or completely by himself. Which has become a more rare occurrence the past months.

She seems more at ease coming home with him than going home alone, which she does to prove a point to herself. He knows. He knows it's probably just because she's scared they're moving too fast, and she doesn't want it to seem like they're living together when they're not. He wants to change it. Wants her to be even closer, with him in what is a safe sanctuary for them both. Maybe he'll ask her.

(Maybe she'll say yes.)

She's helping his mother cook dinner now, or guiding his mother, he hopes. He can hear her voice, the lilt of laughter in her voice as she chats with his family, and it's so completely domestic that it makes his heart ache. She belongs here just as much as he does.

He goes to his bathroom to freshen up a bit, finds a shirt atop the laundry basket. It's an old one he borrows her when she sleeps over. Maybe she wore it last night, decided it needed some washing.

Out of their own accord, his fingers curl into the material, the soft worn cotton he used to love. He was always fond of comfort, silky sheets and fabric softener, but he loves her skin more. It's smoother, better than anything he has ever felt.

Lifting the shirt, he takes a whiff. His head spins with it, just a little. It's his shirt, but it smells like _her. _Like her skin, her hair, the essence of her.

It's his life but she's everywhere. And he hasn't felt more complete.

* * *

_pull me_

* * *

February graces them with snowfall.

Big flakes of white covering every surface, like a cold blanket on a city of metal.

He takes Kate out to dinner after the case, a simple meal of Italian cuisine and a good conversation. It was a long one, tough and emotional, but it was over. They had closed it. He's so proud of her, how she stands her ground to find justice. Doesn't back down.

It might have been her downfall once, but she knows her limits. He's proud of her even more because of that.

She's laughing, looking up at the dark sky, the snowflakes sticking to her hair and eyelashes. Her beauty is radiating in the dark. He wants to kiss them away, kiss her mouth so badly, but he's glad to give that up if he gets to watch her. She's magnificent and he's lucky enough to witness it.

Her hand tugs on his, and he looks away from her face, follows her obediently. The city is not as loud as it used to be, but the sidewalks are more crowded. People don't want to risk their lives in traffic. He gets that.

He just wishes sometimes that it could be just them.

Central Park is only a block off, and that's where she leads him, still holding his hand as they make their way past trees and lampposts and people. She's pulling him with her mostly, though, laughs when he slows down again.

"You really like the show, don't you?" he asks suddenly, making her stop in her tracks too. She looks up at the sky again, smiles carefully.

"I do. It has something magical, I think," she finally says, squeezing his hand softly. "I wanted to share this with you."

He smiles, leans over to kiss her mouth slowly, almost chastely. She leans into him, noses bumping when they finally pull back, twin smiles on their faces.

He realizes that he doesn't mind being pulled along.

* * *

_drown me_

* * *

They finally end up spending Memorial Day at the Hamptons.

His mother and daughter are there, so he can't exactly spend her time off lounging in bed. (Preferably naked, but he's not awfully picky. Not always, anyway.)

They go swimming one of the last days, and in the middle of flipping sausages on the grill he loses track of where she is. Alexis mildly points out Kate went for a swim, but he can't see her. So he hands his mother the tongs - which was a bad idea, he realizes afterward - and runs off to the shore, taking the dive easily.

He likes the water, likes the feeling of waves against his skin, gentle and calming. Floundering above, he looks around, still can't find her. He frowns, and panic floods his chest for a second.

She's a good swimmer, and the sea is relatively calm, but he still has to force himself to believe that nothing has happened.

That is, of course, until two slim hands wrap around his ankles, pulling him under.

He flounders for a bit, surprised, arms hitting around himself as if looking for her. But she's not there. He can't open his eyes without getting salty seawater in his eyes.

His legs find leverage in the sand, pulling him above water with shallow breaths, wiping the wet hair from his face. When his eyes finally manage to open, he still can't see her, until two slim arms wrap around him from her back, her body pressing into his.

"Gotcha!" she chuckles against his shoulder.

"Sneaky, very sneaky," he amends. "How did you hold your breath so long?"

He can feel her cheek connect with his shoulder blade before she replies. "Practice."

"Kate Beckett: excessive drowner of boyfriends."

It earns him a slap, but he doesn't really mind at all.

* * *

_swallow me whole_

* * *

She's going to be Katherine _Castle _in a short while.

When he proposed to her, he thought she'd feel too independent to take his name, but she told him that she didn't mind. That she wanted to be Mrs Castle.

He remembers his breath catching midway out of his lungs, making his hands shake as he held one of hers. They were in public; he was supposed to keep his cool. Or expected to.

It's one of the things he doesn't care about anymore. He doesn't care if he overreacts sometimes, because she _still _surprises him, even after so many years.

Deep in thought, he almost misses her entry. Esposito nudges him in the arm, and he's about to snap a _'What?' _at him, when he sees her.

And there are no words.

She's looking down like she's shy, but he knows her eyes are beaming, knows the familiar blush in her cheeks, knows how she's not allowed to bite her lip because Lanie would kill her if she ruined her lipgloss. But when she looks up briefly, giving her father a smile before looking at him knowingly, he falls in love with her. Like it's the first time.

Like all his feelings, that took ages to build, are suddenly taken from him and falling down on him all at once, like a sudden downpour in summer. Soaking his skin, making him feel lighter and cooler, like a better person.

She makes him better. She makes him want to try because even though he might not be able to ever top all the things she's done, he can try in his own way.

She has him captivated.

And when vows are exchanged, and promises are made, and rings are slid onto fingers, her finally moves the veil from her face, revealing what he assumed was already there.

She smiles, squeezing his hand before taking the initiative, leaning in and kissing him briefly. He's too in thought to react, so when she pulls back after not getting a reaction, a frown creasing her brows. "What's wrong?" she whispers.

He just shakes his head, cupping both her cheeks and kissing her again, kissing her on a new page of their lives, together.

And nothing can ever be wrong again.


End file.
